There's a lot of fear in the world at the moment. Fear, panic, paranoia. I think the fear is worse than the virus itself. Fear feeds off itself, growing ever bigger and more overwhelming. It makes normally sane people do some really stupid things.
For the past couple of months, I've done pretty well ignoring it all, convinced that the whole Coronovirus thing was blown out of proportion and that if I just kept doing what I'd normally do, everything would be fine.
Until I couldn't.
Events were cancelled. Church culled. I couldn't do my groceries online like I usually do. The medications I'd ordered hadn't come in when they were supposed to. It wasn't just something out there anymore which I could ignore.
And suddenly, yesterday afternoon, the fear hit me. I closed myself in my room, tears dripping down my face and finally admitted to myself that I was scared. Really scared. What if this was bigger than I'd given it credit for? What if people I knew and loved got sick? What if I did? What if I was making a bad decision in letting my kids still go to school? What if I couldn't get my medications when I needed them? What if....???
In desperation, I pulled out my Bible. I didn't want to be afraid. I didn't want to let the fear overwhelm me, and the only way I was going to get past it was to find something bigger. As I sat there, reading the Psalms, God reminded me of something I'd not only known my whole life but believed so strongly, it had bled out into my characters' lives as I wrote:
All will be well.
A promise. Not only for my characters but for me. For us all.
Not that sickness won't touch me or my family. Not that life would settle down and go straight back to normal. Not that this coming year wouldn't be tough or that it would all pass straight by me without affecting me or my family.
No. A promise that
even in all that, God would still be God. That God would hold us all. That because of him, no matter what, all would be well.
